Only in Ethiopia

I love the randomness of this experience. I can't emphasize enough how every day is truly an adventure. Even on the days that I don't have the energy, desire, or sometimes courage to leave the compound, I can always count on the "adventure" finding me.

Perhaps it is all about perspective. There have certainly been a fair number of my volunteer friends who have had guests visit to only have them purchase an immediate return ticket home. Where they see poverty, I see tenacity and hope. Where they see dirt and dust, I see the aftermath of a magnificent rainy season and the patience to wait for the rain to return. Where they experience inconvenience, I see challenge and an opportunity for ingenuity. Where they meet annoying kids chanting "you, you, you," I see kids hungry for love and attention. Ultimately, where some people get bogged down in the difficulties and hassles here, I see instead the opportunity for yet another adventure or in many cases my comical "misadventures". My intent is not to glorify this experience, this country, this culture. It is real people, living real life…with all of its bumps and bruises. There are times that I have to put on a smile and search for the adventure buried in the rubble of the frustrations of the day. But like a good treasure hunt, the joy is often in the hunt, not the treasure.

Some of my recent experiences that I like to coin…."only in Ethiopia":

….i returned to my home after a month absence to find my house a mess. Truly a disaster zone. The bathroom water problem that should have been repaired was "in progress," the living room had been the site for a party, and the dining room table was shoved up against a wall tomake room for a mattress. When I inquired as to the reason for the mattress, Aselef replied…"the house was afraid". Yes…only in Ethiopia!

…walking home from town one day I took a route that I had only traveled once previously. As I was passing this home a woman came racing out to the road calling "you, come for coffee. Come!" I had refused her on my initial foray down this particular road and didn't feel that I could refuse again. So, I went. I entered the home to find a crowd of 12 or 13 Ethiopians none of whom I knew. I sat perched on the edge of the couch, sipping bunna, while fielding questions that flew at me like bullets. The number one question(asked by more than one person)…why aren't you married? Yes…only inEthiopia!
I'm trying to put this experience in the Western perspective. Here is the closest scenario I can come up with. Imagine you look out the window and spy a runner passing the house. You race to the roadside and invite him to your family reunion, which is in progress. He accepts and you sit him down at the head of the table and send a volley of questions at him, none of which are socially appropriate. Now, can you imagine accepting such an offer? ONLY IN ETHIOPIA!

…only in Ethiopia can you be called fat regardless of your size. We can't quite figure out what the requirements are for "fatness". It doesn't seem to matter if you are a petite, athletic size 2, or a Goliath sized 42….we're all fat. And, we also can't figure out if it's a compliment or a cut. So, in an effort to keep everything in perspective and to see the "adventure" in the most biting of remarks(at least from a Western perspective), I respond with…"thanks, you'relooking quite fat yourself!"

…only in Ethiopia can you be riding in a cab from the airport and receive an invitation from a fellow passenger to join her and her family for Christmas dinner. When, you ask. NOW! Sadly, enough, I didn't take her up on her offer…an adventure that got away!

…only in Ethiopia is Barack Obama such a phenomenon that cafes, and buildings are named in his honor (pre-election). For election night the Barack Obama café in Bahar Dar was open all night and we watched the results from a big screen set up on the veranda during the wee hours of the morning. For the inauguration, the same café hosted a Miss Obama beauty contest, which I'm sad to say that I missed. I just couldn't endure one more excruciating bus ride.

…only in Ethiopia can the act of making homemade spaghetti sauce turn into an adventure. I need to preface this by saying that I had completed a 3-hour laundry program earlier in the day. As I went to open a can of tomato paste it exploded...much like a grenade. Intruth, it looked like I had been shot. Tomato paste sprayed over my shirt, pants, neck, face, hair, and directly into my left eye. That is where the adventure comes in. I freaked out. Flew to the sink, scrambled to wash my hands while my eye was burning so that I could then yank the contact out of my eye. In the process I smeared tomato paste everywhere that it currently wasn't located. My biggest fear(enhanced by the fact that I wear contact lenses when I was expressly discouraged against doing so) is to have an eye injury while here. Suffice it to say that 4 hours later my eye was still hurting and my hyperactive imagination convinced me that I'd wake up blind. I didn'twake up blind, but I woke up to a ton of dirty laundry that needed re-washing. Ugh!